6. Chapter 5

The three stumbled around the console, gripping onto it tightly. “Doctor, we are losing control!” Layla yelled. “We need to do this now!” Sherlock snapped his head to her.

“Do what?” he asked her. Layla said nothing and just stared at him sadly. “Layla, what is going on?”

“Sherlock,” she went to his side, “just know, that I will always lo-”

Layla gasped, sitting upright on her bed. Sweat beaded on her forehead, her breathing erratic. Without another word, she hopped out of bed and grabbed her leather book from her secret box, and started writing down her dream. She started having those dreams ever since Sherlock saved her and John. Her dreams were so weird but felt so real, she started writing them down secretly.

She finished writing her dream and glanced at her clock. It was two in the morning. “Ugh,” she moaned, rubbing her face tiredly, “I need this sleep.” Layla glanced at her leather book. “Evil dreams.” she muttered darkly. She rested her head on her desk, only to get startled when her phone started to vibrate. She grabbed her phone, seeing it was a text from Sherlock.

Come to Baker Street.

SH

Layla frowned at the test. How did he know I was still awake? Layla wondered. She received another text from Sherlock as soon as she thought that.

I know you're awake.

SH

Layla shrugged, grabbing her trench coat, a gift from Sherlock. She put her slippers on and started making her way out. She opened John's room, and saw him asleep. She closed it just as quietly and grabbed her keys and some money before making her way out of their flat, but not before grabbing her notebook. She hailed a cab instantly and told her the location. She pulled out her phone.

What do you want? How do you know I am awake?

Before she could receive a reply, she already arrived at her location. “Thanks.” she murmured to the driver, handing him the right amount of money. Before she could knock on the door, the door opened revealing Sherlock in his pyjamas, dressing gown over it. Layla raised an eyebrow at his outfit. “Did you just wake up or something?”

Sherlock ignored her comment and stepped aside, waiting for her to enter. Layla entered the flat quietly, heading up to Sherlock's flat quietly. She heard him trailing behind, making her know that going up to his flat without permission was okay. She made her way over to the couch and watched as Sherlock moved to his armchair. He sat down slowly, and faced her with a thoughtful frown. Layla frowned at his concentrated look. “Yes?”

“What are the nightmares about?” Sherlock asked her suddenly. Layla looked at him bewildered.

“How did you -”

“You have dark circles under your eyes,” Sherlock deduced, “you try to hide them with make up. And also at the fact that when we were on the case it looked like you were just about to fall down and sleep.” Sherlock then smirked at her. “And also, because you are up this early, looking very well awake.” Layla chuckled dryly, staring down at her lap. “So I'll ask again. What are your nightmares about?”

“I. . .” Layla frowned. “I-I don't r-really know exactly.” Layla then remembered her notebook. She chucked her notebook to him. Sherlock caught it immediately and frowned at the book. “These dreams are really strange.” she said. “And they are very confusing. I decided to write them all down.” Sherlock flicked through her book. He saw the pages covered with her handwriting about her dreams, even some drawings of aliens, creatures. Things from daleks, to angels, and many more. Sherlock quickly skimmed through her dreams.

“We travelled back in time from the angels, seeking help through a video. . .”

“We crashed in London and stumbled upon a certain Consulting Detective. . .”

“It's strange, really.” Layla chuckled, snapping him from reading her dreams. “They're strange. John being called the 'Doctor', and the fact that you are in these dreams are weird as well.”

“Is it now?” Sherlock flicked to the last entry.

“Yeah.” Layla then moved to him and motioned him to her last entry. “I just recently wrote this one, before you texted me.” Sherlock quickly read through the dream. “I don't know what's going to happen, but I probably will find out what's going to happen to me and John – or should I say, 'Doctor'.” Layla chuckled. She noticed his expression. He had a look of pain on his face, like he was watching a memory or something. She frowned at him in confusion. “You all right? It looks like you're remembering a painful memory.”

“I'm fine.” Sherlock shook his head. Layla didn't believe him.

“Sherlock. . .”

“I'm fine, really.” Sherlock insisted. “I'm just thinking -”

“Thinking?” she looked at him in disbelief. “Sherlock, every time we mention anything about my past or something, you suddenly go distant and have a look of pain etched on your face.” Sherlock didn't say anything. “Do you know about my past or something?”